Poetry Time

NOBLE be man,Helpful and good!For that aloneDistinguisheth himFrom all the beingsUnto us known.

Hail to the beings,Unknown and glorious,Whom we forebode!From his exampleLearn we to know them!

For unfeelingNature is ever:On bad and on goodThe sun alike shineth;And on the wicked,As on the best,The moon and stars gleam.

Tempest and torrent,Thunder and hail,Roar on their path,Seizing the while,As they haste onward,One after another.

Even so, fortuneGropes 'mid the throng--Innocent boyhood'sCurly head seizing,--Seizing the hoaryHead of the sinner.

After laws mighty,Brazen, eternal,Must all we mortalsFinish the circuitOf our existence.

Man, and man onlyCan do the impossible;He 'tis distinguisheth,Chooseth and judgeth;He to the momentEndurance can lend.

He and he onlyThe good can reward,The bad can he punish,Can heal and can save;All that wanders and straysCan usefully blend.And we pay homageTo the immortalsAs though they were men,And did in the great,What the best, in the small,Does or might do.

Be the man that is noble,Both helpful and good.Unweariedly formingThe right and the useful,A type of those beingsOur mind hath foreshadow'd!

Fuck you man at least this kid is brave enough to make mistakes in public. Were you always very careful that nobody ever sees you err? - That's narcissistic and ineffective.

I wasn't making fun of him. I saw a place to put some poetry and I was in a joking mood at that time so I put those here. Nothing serious here. My sense of humor is maybe too childish at time. But in a more serious way, those silly rimes that I have borrowed can be good to break down our ego. Only, it wasn't directed at someone in particular. Take it if the hat fits.

Fuck you man at least this kid is brave enough to make mistakes in public. Were you always very careful that nobody ever sees you err? - That's narcissistic and ineffective.

I wasn't making fun of him. I saw a place to put some poetry and I was in a joking mood at that time so I put those here. Nothing serious here. My sense of humor is maybe too childish at time. But in a more serious way, those silly rimes that I have borrowed can be good to break down our ego. Only, it wasn't directed at someone in particular. Take it if the hat fits.

Rip the sacred fleshSodomize the holy assholeDrink the red blood of the mother of earthMasturbation on the dead body of christThe king of Jews is deadand so are the liesVomit on the host of HeavenMasturbate on the throne of GodBreak the seals of angelsDrink the sweet blood of ChristTaste the flesh of the priestSodomize holy nunsThe king of Jews is a liarThe Heavens will burnDethrone the son of GodGod is deadHolyness is gonePurity is gonePrayers are burnedCovered in black shitRape the holy ghostUnclean birth of Jesus ChristHeaven will fallFuck the churchFuck ChristFuck the VirginFuck the gods of HeavenFuck the name of Jesus

A ruptured destinyIn this sullen and nameless voidAbsolution or affinityThe will quite often is never the weapon of choiceKarma dancing on the palms of unseen starsThe screaming womb bleeds in the darkThe pulse of the earth beats like a stallion’s heartAnd we navigate change while refusing to abandon the constants

For what we’ll never be is what we’ll becomeDeep emotional paralysis with all four walls closing inSometimes pain comes with purpose – sometimes it hangs around just for funNo straightjacket saviors or friends trying to fly far across the sunFrom the cradle to ashes - from the ashes to the graveTattered earth stained with the faithless and the brave

Flesh, sin and boneA silent crusade into the unknownThe serpent and the swanThe lamb and the jackalThe knight and the pawnA beautiful mind dreams of twisted thingsA scarring old hope that bleeds like a bird with shattered wings

Where will you be when all of this fades away?

Where will you be when I cling onto the edge of infinity?

Where will you be when the children of the night lament for their tortured & troubled tribe?

Where will you be when I drown within my emptiness one last time? My last tangible fragment of humanity

I wasn't making fun of him. I saw a place to put some poetry and I was in a joking mood at that time so I put those here. Nothing serious here. My sense of humor is maybe too childish at time. But in a more serious way, those silly rimes that I have borrowed can be good to break down our ego. Only, it wasn't directed at someone in particular. Take it if the hat fits.

Good thing as my paranoia was killing me, though anyways here might be something more special in poetry.

America, you've got it better By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

America, you've got it better Than our old continent. Exult!You have no decaying castlesAnd no basalt.Your heart is not troubled,In lively pursuits,By useless old remembranceAnd empty disputes.

So use the present day with luck!And when your child a poem writes,Protect him, with his skill and pluck,From tales of bandits, ghosts and knights.

By a route obscure and lonely,Haunted by ill angels only,Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,On a black throne reigns upright,I have reached these lands but newlyFrom an ultimate dim Thule-From a wild clime that lieth, sublime,Out of SPACE- out of TIME.

Bottomless vales and boundless floods,And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,With forms that no man can discoverFor the tears that drip all over;Mountains toppling evermoreInto seas without a shore;Seas that restlessly aspire,Surging, unto skies of fire;Lakes that endlessly outspreadTheir lone waters- lone and dead,-Their still waters- still and chillyWith the snows of the lolling lily.

By the lakes that thus outspreadTheir lone waters, lone and dead,-Their sad waters, sad and chillyWith the snows of the lolling lily,-By the mountains- near the riverMurmuring lowly, murmuring ever,-By the grey woods,- by the swampWhere the toad and the newt encamp-By the dismal tarns and poolsWhere dwell the Ghouls,-By each spot the most unholy-In each nook most melancholy-There the traveller meets aghastSheeted Memories of the Past-Shrouded forms that start and sighAs they pass the wanderer by-White-robed forms of friends long given,In agony, to the Earth- and Heaven.

For the heart whose woes are legion'Tis a peaceful, soothing region-For the spirit that walks in shadow'Tis- oh, 'tis an Eldorado!But the traveller, travelling through it,May not- dare not openly view it!Never its mysteries are exposedTo the weak human eye unclosed;So wills its King, who hath forbidThe uplifting of the fringed lid;And thus the sad Soul that here passesBeholds it but through darkened glasses.

By a route obscure and lonely,Haunted by ill angels only,Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,On a black throne reigns upright,I have wandered home but newlyFrom this ultimate dim Thule.